Page 41 of Wicked Scandal

Sayer is a lot like me—eyes on the future, treat others how we want to be treated. Whereas Rome and Callan like to raise hell for fun and have no problem using the backs of others as steppingstones to get what they want.

“Well, for anyone who cares,” Brogan says chipperly. “Cheerleading starts in two weeks as well, but I think I’ve got this alone. No need for anyone to trail behind me to make sure I get there.”

Brogan is on the varsity cheer team, and she lives for that shit. She’s already got her future mapped out for herself. After graduation next year she plans to attend the university in our neighboring town while cheering for the Devils’ football team.

As for Callan, no one knows what his plans are. Dad will likely bribe him just so he’ll attend college for a couple years because there’s no way in hell he’ll try and bring him into his company. He’d have to be a fool to do that. Callan doesn’t have a working bone in his body.

“I don’t doubt that,” Dad tells Brogan with a smile. “I just wish Callan had that same mindset with sports and school.”

“And what mindset is that?” Callan’s voice booms through the dining room as he enters, the musky smell of marijuana rolling off his all-black clothing. He pushes his unkempt hair off his forehead, exposing his squinted, bloodshot eyes.

Jerking a chair out from the table, he drops down with his legs spread and his head resting on the tall back cushion. He looks from person to person before saying, “You all talking smack about me behind my back?”

“Glad you could join us, Callan,” Dad says as he adjusts the napkin on his lap. “Is there a reason you’re late for dinner…again?”

“I was at the library.” He smirks and we all know it’s a lie. Callan wouldn’t be caught dead in a library. Not unless there were chicks there serving up pot and booze.

Dad rolls his eyes. “We’ll talk later, son.” He takes in a deep breath before moving his attention to me. “Jillian said she’s emailed you twice with no response. I need you to get on that. She’d like the draft for the board meeting by tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow evening?” I gasp. “Dad, I’ve got finals coming up and I’m behind on batching videos for…” I let my words trail off because that’s not a valid excuse for him. When he gives me a stern look, I know I already dug myself into a hole. School can be an excuse, but the thing I am passionate about that is actually making me money is not valid.

“I’ll get it done.” I stab a piece of meat on my plate a little too hard as my stomach sours.

“I know you will, Wilder. You’re doing great. And I have no doubt you’ll ace your finals.”

“Kiss ass,” Callan coughs into his fist before spewing laughter.

“Can we all just have a nice dinner?” Celia asks with a scorned look on her face.

“Shut up,” I snap at him, ignoring Celia’s plea. “At least I’m doing something productive with my time. We can’t all spend our days getting high and chilling.” I put air quotes around the word chilling so he knows that I am aware of exactly what he does with his buddies when they get high.

Callan sits up in his chair, scowling. “Of course not. Someone needs to crawl up Dad’s ass and remove the stick that’s buried up there.”

Fuming, I go to stand, but Rome pulls me back down in my chair. My teeth grind as I grit out, “Shut your damn mouth or next time I’ll shut it for you.”

Unfazed, he just sits there all calm and collected with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Original, Wilder.” He braces his elbows on the table, leaning in to tell me a secret that is loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Enough!” Dad shouts as his chair flies back and he gets to his feet. He stalks toward Callan then grabs him by the collar of his worn black tee shirt, pulling him out of his chair. “Outside! Now!”

“Chill out,” Callan scoffs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just fucking with him.”

Dad smacks his palm to the back of Callan’s head. “Watch your mouth, young man. My wife and your sisters don’t need to hear you speaking like some misfit punk.”

“Wow,” Brogan draws. “That was intense. What’s gotten into him?” She looks from me to Rome.

I exhale a pent-up breath of rage. “No idea but if anyone can put him in his place, it’s Dad.”

“Everyone, just calm down,” Celia, my stepmom, says. “Callan is just going through something. We’ve all been there. He’s just dealing with it in ways we can’t understand. Just try to be there for him when you can, okay?”

We all nod in response then finish eating in dead silence. Lake is the first to stand and she excuses herself to go to play basketball at the park. Looking at the petite girl with purple streaks in her dark hair and art drawn all over herself, you wouldn’t think she’d be baller, but she’s got mad skills on the court. Lake is a little weird, but at least she has hobbies to occupy her time, unlike Callan. He’s got football and that’s only five months out of the year. And that’s all to say he doesn’t royally fuck that up his senior year because all he wants to do is get high.

I thought Rome processed our mother’s death in a piss-poor way, but Callan just seemed to shut down. Believe it or not, he and I used to be close. We would practice throwing the ball together in the yard and even attended football camps together. He’s always been my little brother, but something has changed this past year and it started the day we buried our mother.

A glance at my watch and I see that it’s already quarter to seven, so I scarf down the rest of my steak and mashed potatoes then excuse myself, too.

“I’ve gotta head out to clear my head so I can work on the speech for my dad,” I tell Celia. “I’ll be back later.”

I pick up my plate and head into the kitchen when I’m joined by Elodie. “So,” she begins, “care to tell me the truth about what’s got you in such a good mood lately.”

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